The Strand Ephemera
by Domina Temporis
Summary: One-shot collection of all the moments from throughout Holmes and Watson's careers that we never see. Because they're just as interesting eating breakfast as they are solving cases. No slash, will update as inspiration strikes.
1. Chapter 1

Set around 1885

* * *

"Watson, did you have any plans for tonight?" Holmes asked as I entered our sitting room after making my rounds.

"No," I answered truthfully; sitting by the fire reading the evening newspaper could hardly be counted as plans.

Holmes nodded in satisfaction, "Good. I received a telegram requesting an audience with me tonight at seven o'clock, and as it is nearly seven now, our visitor will be arriving soon."

"Did he leave you any details of the case?" I asked with interest, settling into my armchair.

Holmes shook his head, "No, I am in as much suspense as you, Watson." He fell silent, his head cocked to one side. "Although not for much longer." Almost as he finished speaking, the bell rang and I heard Mrs. Hudson ushering our visitor inside.

The man who entered our sitting room was tall, with dark hair and beard. He wore thin glasses, and clothing made of the most expensive material. His bearing suggested a noble birth and upbringing.

"I am Lord Bulworth," the visitor announced. "No doubt you have seen my name or that of my family in the society pages."

"Indeed I have," I answered, knowing that Holmes did not read the society pages. It seemed to me imprudent to insult such a man by ignoring his stature when he called on us for help.

"Excuse me, which of you gentlemen is Sherlock Holmes?" Lord Bulworth asked, surveying the room.

"I am Holmes," my companion said, rising from his chair. "This is my esteemed friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."

Bulworth nodded in my direction, then turned to Holmes, "I take it you received my telegram of this morning?" Holmes indicated that he had, sitting back down and offering the settee to our visitor, who declined it. "I was rather hoping you could help me. I must say, I am at my wit's end to consult a detective, as I would prefer that this business is kept out of the public eye."

"Many such noble houses have relied on our discretion," Holmes said. Bulworth nodded, glancing at me again, then continued.

"I have two tickets for the last train leaving London. My estate is in Kent, and I believe it would be beneficial for you to look at the – well, the scene where it all took place." The nobleman appeared to be keeping his reason for consulting Holmes secret, for no reason I could tell. Holmes sat up with interest.

"I make it a habit never to go anywhere without first determining if it is necessary for me to do so," Holmes said. "Watson here will tell you that I am often able to bring a case to a satisfactory conclusion without leaving this chair. Please, tell us your story."

Bulworth seemed even more ill at ease with this invitation, "I would rather not say here. I can relate the story to you on arrival, where I can show you in detail the layout of the scene. It really is a matter of utmost delicacy and is rather difficult to explain without your presence at my estate. And, of course, assurances of your discretion."

"I believe I have already answered that question," Holmes said. His tone was unfailingly polite, but I could detect the annoyance in his voice.

Lord Bulworth made no such attempt to hide his displeasure; although he did not raise his voice, his attitude grew more imperious. This was a man used to being obeyed in all things. "See here, Mr. Holmes, it is a great disturbance to someone in my position to consult a detective at all. I am here at the request of my family, but I assure you, I will speak only to you in the privacy of my own home. Not here with whomever you deem fit to hear my private business!"

Suddenly the matter became clear to me, and I quietly stood up and began to leave the room. My own embarrassment was of no matter; I did not expect to help Holmes on every case. It was just as well that he solve this one alone, as he had done on so many others.

"Watson, stay where you are," Holmes said. Had such a request in such a tone come from any other man, I would have called it an order. Turning around, I saw Holmes standing, facing our visitor, anger evident in his expression. "Dr. Watson is my trusted friend and companion. I will hear no slight, overt or otherwise, regarding his discretion."

"Mr. Holmes, my family will not hear of our private business being bandied about in front of some fellow we do not know!"

"Then I will not hear of your business, or of your case. Good night, sir," Holmes said with an air of finality, handing our visitor his hat.

Lord Bulworth appeared astonished. It seemed to me that he was not used to being refused, certainly not by someone in as inferior a position as he deemed Holmes to be, comparable to himself. Stiffly, he accepted his hat, bid us good night, and left. Holmes glared at the door until the sound of his footfalls faded and we heard the front door shut behind him.

"Holmes, you did not even wait to hear his case," I said, in some confusion.

"No, Watson, I did not," Holmes answered.

"It may have been something interesting," I said. "Why, only this morning you were lamenting the lack of interesting crimes since the capture of the Pressing and Field counterfeiters."

"Interesting as it may be, he was most condescending in his attitude toward you, was he not, Watson?"

I affirmed that he was, and Holmes nodded. "A precedent has been set tonight. Those who consult me know that my friend Dr. Watson is on occasion good enough to assist me in solving these little problems, and if they wish me to solve their cases, they will accept your help also. Should it be required, of course." He turned back to the newspaper, as if he had said nothing more important than a remark on the damp weather outside.

"Well, thank you, Holmes," I said. "I do enjoy helping you on your cases; it would grieve me to know that your clients did not trust me as they do you."

"Rest assured, my dear Watson, my clients will trust you as I do. If they do not, they will simply have to find a different detective."

I smiled, "You know, Holmes, you may destroy your career."

"Certainly not, Watson!" Holmes exclaimed.

"How can you be so sure?"

"My dear fellow, there simply are no other detectives. At least, no other _consulting_ detectives. I did say I invented the job." Holmes smiled at his own cleverness and I was unable to prevent myself from laughing out loud. "Those clients who object to your presence will quickly learn not to, or else trust themselves to the dubious abilities of Scotland Yard. Pass me the agony column when you are finished with it."

I chuckled to myself, passing over the desired section of the newspaper, reflecting that he, who trusted no one, had shown an extraordinary trust in me after only two years acquaintance. I only hoped I would prove to be worthy of it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Set around 1884 or so. I wrote this as more of an exercise to get the style right than anything else, but I don't want anyone to think I've been ignoring this one-shot collection, so here it is.

* * *

I read the story with some amusement; a report on the Australian gold fields written by someone who had clearly never been to Australia. "Ha!" I exclaimed as I laid the paper aside, "Preposterous."

"My dear Watson, perhaps you should write the newspaper's descriptions of Australia yourself if you do not agree with their depiction of it," Sherlock Holmes said matter-of-factly from the chemical table across the room.

As usual, I was taken aback by his ability to deduce my thoughts without my articulating them. "It is a matter of little importance, but demonstrates an annoying lack of facts nonetheless," I said, "How the deuce did you know I was reading about Australia anyway?"

Holmes turned around, a light dancing in his eyes. "You are most expressive in your reading, my dear fellow. Particularly when you do not agree with the author's opinions. In the last fifteen minutes, I have heard you mutter under your breath no fewer than five times opinions on the author's ignorance in varying states of amusement and aggravation. You do not follow sporting news. You certainly would not have paid that much attention to social columns. Had you been reading war news, you undoubtedly would have been more somber; a professional treatise, quieter and more studious, and criminal news, you would certainly have called my attention to the story in question. Only Australia could produce that exact reaction in you."

I flushed, for I must have been engrossed indeed not to notice that I was disturbing him. "I apologize, my dear fellow, if I disturbed your experiments."

"Nonsense!" Holmes cried, "It was most informative and entertaining. You are a fascinating study, Watson."

"Yes, well, I do not like to see a young nation that has every chance of achieving greatness so disparaged for its youth and somewhat wild origins," I answered.

"I do not know much of Australia," Holmes said, "Aside from the many very interesting criminal records which come out of that country."

"It is a wild place," I admitted, for there was no other way to describe the gold fields, where lawmen were few and far between, and the law more a matter of choice than of necessity. "My uncle was a prospector there, and I spent a year there as a boy."

"Was it truly as wild as the criminal records state?" Holmes asked, "Having never been there myself, your first-hand experience might be of great use to me."

Gratified to be in the unusual position of being more knowledgeable than Holmes, I thought deeply about my response. "It was over twenty years ago that I lived there, but it is a land of contrasts. The cities of Sydney and Melbourne were growing at a rapid rate when I passed through, with a great jumble of people, but the government was attempting to bring some culture to its people. In the twenty years since, I have no doubt that the cities have become more respectable. Even then, there was an elite that was as conscious of its status as any of our English aristocrats."

"And the gold fields?" Holmes asked, fixing me with his formidable stare.

"They operated on their own form of law. The gold fields attracted many types of people, from hard working emigrants trying to start a new life, to criminals trying to hide from the law. The mix of people could be…explosive, and fights or theft were not uncommon. In fact, I believe you would find much to occupy yourself with in an Australian gold field," I added, causing Holmes to burst into a rare fit of laughter.

"It is the sort of place where one must carry a pistol at all times simply for safety," I continued. "In fact, it was my uncle who taught me to shoot during my time there. But it is also a place of incredible hope and freedom. The thought that at any time one might strike it rich is a powerful feeling and the atmosphere is charged with it. And the landscape is starkly beautiful. It is a place for fresh starts, away from old rules and beliefs, if that is what one needs."

I finished, thinking over my time there, wondering if I would ever have chance to return and how changed I would find the country that had given me my first taste of adventure. It was always something of a shock to me that I had more life experience than Holmes, whose great intellect belied the fact that he had never yet left Europe. It was gratifying that there was something to balance the scales in our relationship, and I mused that the mix of his genius and my practical experience in other matters was probably why we worked so well together..

Although the odor now emanating from the chemical apparatus told me that perhaps we did not need to work together right at this moment, as I exited to continue my reading in my blissfully odor-free bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't think he'll come," I said to Mary as we looked through our address book.

"Oh but John, it's our first dinner party!" Mary said brightly, writing out an invitation to her former employer. "All of our friends will there, it would be such a shame for him to miss it."

"Yes, but you know Holmes," I said. "There are few things he dislikes more than socializing, even with those few he considers friends."

Mary sighed, "I know. I don't want to put him in an uncomfortable situation, but I know how much it would mean to you for him to be there." She looked down at our admittedly small guest list. "Most of these people are my friends and acquaintances, not yours."

It was true that I had gained few friends other than Holmes myself and I smiled ruefully, "Perhaps I should judge him less since I seem to have done no better!" I supposed to an outsider we would appear as very similar; two loners who found their society in each other. For many years that had been true, until I found my Mary. What good fortune for me, although I still felt badly about leaving Holmes on his own.

"Besides, my friends all want to meet the detective who brought us together and who features so heavily in your writings," Mary said shyly.

I raised an eyebrow at her, "Are you putting Holmes on display?"

"Oh, John," Mary said, laughing. "Of course not, but you have to admit people are interested in him. Besides, I daresay you're the one putting him on display in _A Study in Scarlet_."

I couldn't argue with that; Holmes had said as much himself. I took one of the invitations and wrote his name in myself, adding a note:

_My Dear Holmes, _

_I know how much you abhor social occasions, but I ask you to make an exception for our first dinner party. Your presence would mean a great deal to me._

_Yours sincerely, _

_John Watson_

Mary had already declared the party a great success after the first half hour. She was surrounded by friends in our sitting room, discussing the decorations of our new home and our honeymoon experiences. I must confess I was feeling slightly left out when the maid announced Holmes's presence. He slunk in behind her, as if trying to appear invisible against the back wall, but I smiled broadly and welcomed him with a warm handshake.

"Holmes! It is good to see you," I said, then, lowering my voice, "Thank you for coming. I know you would prefer to be alone with your chemicals and violin."

Holmes gave me a small smile, "Nonsense, Watson. I would not be so remiss as to be absent from your first dinner party. Good evening, Mrs. Watson," he said, turning to my wife.

"Oh, good evening, Mr. Holmes!" Mary said. "This is my husband's friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"The detective?" One of Mary's friends asked incredulously. "I did so enjoy _A Study in Scarlet." _From that instant, Holmes was surrounded by curious friends and, I was relieved to see, seemed to be reveling in the attention. "I've never seen him so in demand," I whispered to Mary, as the group gasped at Holmes deducing Mary's former employer.

"He seems to be enjoying himself," she said.

"Genius needs an audience," I said, watching him discuss the latest series of concerts he had been to with our neighbors. I knew Holmes had impeccable manners when he chose, and I was grateful that he made the effort tonight. He even ate most of the dinner we had ordered prepared.

"I am certain Mrs. Hudson does not know you have this much of an appetite," I said in an undertone to Holmes, seated at my right. He started to laugh through his serving of roast chicken.

"No, but then she does not send me invitations and seat me at the place of honor."

I could not help laughing either, "I'll be sure to tell her that next time I see her."

"Thank you for coming, Holmes," I said, as our guests prepared to leave. "I promise these will not be too often an occurrence."

"It was no trouble at all, Watson. It was a most enjoyable evening," Holmes said.

"I'm glad to know I am somewhere at the same level as your Stradivarius or your chemicals," I retorted as he left.

"That was quite a success," I remarked to Mary. "Even Holmes enjoyed himself."

"Well then, it truly was a success," she answered with a smile. "Although I doubt he would enjoy a party thrown by the Queen herself as much as one of yours. He rates you very highly, you know."

"I know," I said, "Holmes is quite particular in who he associates with."

"Well, we are very lucky he is partial to us," Mary said, and I heartily agreed.


End file.
